


An Attribute of the Strong

by EmilyScarlett



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Begging, Crying, M/M, just a little bit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyScarlett/pseuds/EmilyScarlett
Summary: "Grantaire felt wretched. He hadn’t meant this to happen, he really hadn’t. Hell, he’d rather suffer a thousand other torments, rather die than have this happen. Because Enjolras was crying, and it was all his fault."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on sassytimemachine's wonderful art, which can be found here: http://sassytimemachine.tumblr.com/post/154385566489/i-hope-youre-happy-anon-cause-i-sure-am-not
> 
> Aslo the title is from the quote: "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."

Grantaire felt wretched. He hadn’t meant this to happen, he really hadn’t. Hell, he’d rather suffer a thousand other torments, rather die than have this happen. Because Enjolras was crying, and it was all his fault.

 

He’d only been joking with Courfeyrac, and he hadn’t meant anything by it, not at all. Not that that excused what he’d said.

 

Now it was all he could do to run out of the door quick enough to catch Enjolras. Thankfully, or perhaps not, Enjolras hadn’t gone far. He sight that met Grantaire’s eyes when he caught up with Enjolras was beyond heartbreaking. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped around himself, his back towards Grantaire. It was almost as though he was trying to curl into a ball and just stay like that. Hiding from the world.  _ Hiding from me _ , Grantaire thought wretchedly. It left Enjolras looking small in a way he rarely did. Usually his presence would fill a room, where his stature did not quite managed it. The pathetic image that Enjolras presented almost robbed Grantaire of all speech.

 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, aware of how desperate he sounded, but not caring at all. “Enjolras, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it, I shouldn’t, please- Please, tell me what I can do to make this up to you?”

 

If anything Enjolras was only crying harder now, and Grantaire felt tears coming to his own eyes at the sight. He hesitantly put a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder, allowing it to rest more firmly when Enjolras didn’t shake it off.

“Please, love, I didn’t mean it. Not a word of it, and I never should have said it. Please, just tell me what I can do.” He was begging now, and he didn’t care. If that’s what it took to make this better then he’d do it gladly.

 

“T-take me... h-home” Enjolras sobbed, barely able to speak through his tears.

“Of course, love. Just let me go inside to get our things and then we’ll go, okay?”

Enjolras nodded and Grantaire when to hurriedly collect their coats and phones from inside the café. As he gathered up their things he realised that he was the centre of a roomful of both anxious and angry gazes.

“We’re going home,” he announced quietly.

“Are you two going to be okay?” Courfeyrac asked. He couldn’t answer. The pain in his throat from holding back tears was too much all of a sudden, and he simply shook his head helplessly before fleeing.

 

Enjolras was exactly where he’d left him. Grantaire quickly hailed a taxi for them; there was no question of making Enjolras sit on any kind of public transport right now. Once he’d given the driver their address he was surprised to find that Enjolras took his hand and clasped it tightly. Sobs were still shaking his body, though they were silent now. Guilt curled heavily in Grantaire’s stomach, making for an unpleasant ride home.

 

By the time they got home Enjolras’ tears had ceased. He simply sat on the sofa, staring straight ahead. He didn’t move until Grantaire knelt down in front of him and took one of his hands in both of his own. 

“You didn’t mean it?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the crying.

“Not a word, my love. I’m so sorry for saying it. It was just a joke. A stupid, hurtful, unfunny joke.”

“I’m not… I’m not inattentive?” Enjolras asked hesitantly.

“No!” Grantaire swore with vehemence. “Don’t think it. You’re the best partner anyone could ask for.”

“But you said- my causes.”

“Your devotion to your causes are part of what I love about you, and I don’t feel neglected because of it.”

“I love you,” Enjolras said firmly, even a little angrily.

“I know. I don’t doubt it. To imply that you don’t, even as a joke, was cruel and I’ll apologise for it as many times as you need me to. I’m sorry, my love.”

Enjolras nodded and there was silence for a moment. Finally, Grantaire gathered his courage.

 

“Will you allow me to work to make this up to you? Or is this… are we…” Here Grantaire broke into sobs and couldn’t continue.

“No, no! Of course not! We will get past this, and we’ll be just as we were before.”

“You’re not leaving me?” Grantaire hardly let himself hope.

“No,” Enjolras said gently. “You made a mistake and you’re sorry. I’m not leaving you.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire replied fervently, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’ hand, which he still held. “Please, what can I do for you? What do you need from me right now?”

“Could you… hold me, maybe?”

“Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“Just that. That’s all I need.”

 

So they passed the night like that, curled up against each other. Eventually Enjolras fell asleep, snoring quietly against Grantaire’s chest. Grantaire didn’t though. He passed the night watching over Enjolras and promising to himself that nothing like this would ever happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe let me know what you thought?


End file.
